Arresting Attraction: How To Create A Criminal

Chapter Twenty Three

I sat still. My back firm against the wheelchair, as I inhaled and exhaled slowly. The smile on my face began to fade, as the adrenaline rushing through my body wore off. I felt exhausted. I felt drained.

I closed my burning eyes. Tears streamed down my face and I coughed to cover them up. I could feel them red, hot in my head, the images no longer succinct and clear, but blurry and lagging. With my brain struggling to keep up with I saw, it was best to keep them shut.

Pounding hard in my chest, my heart screamed. It sung in harmony with my heated lungs, swallowing gulps of poisoned air, delivering fumes into my airways. I felt another cough, the another, and another. My free hand ached as it moved to my chest, clutching tightly. I wanted to slump, to fall to the ground. But, my constraints warned me against it.

The coughing didn't stop, and neither did the pulsing headache running through my mind. The fumes were too strong, to powerful; they were getting to me almost as much as the drug running through my system. I felt my brows furrow as I tilted my head slightly, trying to listen out for the man behind me. As I did, a wave of migraines crashed, and I groaned between coughs.

As the adrenaline pulsing through my body wavered, no longer keeping me up and aware, my skin prickled cold. Goosebumps raised on my arms, on my chest. I moved my free hand to my bounds, struggling and tugging to get the rope free. Anxiety peaked in my gut as I failed, trapped.

Footsteps approached me. Footsteps approached as I struggled, needing to get myself free. My brows were tight as I listened to the sound echoing from the walls around me, heavy, loud.

A hand touched my shoulder as my stomach rumbled.

And, I heaved.

My head lulled forward as I threw up on the ground in front of me, mixing the concrete and glass with more spit and vomit. My throat was searing, the sick like fire. I felt myself cough, trying to rid myself of the pain, only making it worse. I felt tears fall from my eyes, dripping down my face, to my lip.

My stomach heaved again, as I tried to keep in my sick again, my eyes opening, bulging at the thought of throwing up. I blinked away the tears, as my eyes caught sight of something black. Boots.

They faced me, toes in my direction.

A voice echoed around me, the sound distinctive masculine, distinctly calling my name. I cocked my head, tried to find it again, trying to hear. But, my stomach heaved again, and my body dropped forward even more, limp.

Steady hands held me up. The same voice speaking again. I listened carefully as the voice kept talking. The hands supporting the voice were warm. Electricity and power pulsed through them, warming my frozen, goose bumped arms, holding me. I wanted to scream, the pain almost unbearable. Instead, I let the, push me back against the wheelchair, and hold me in place.

The voice said something, echoing around me, but the only thing I could concentrate on was gold. I was mesmerised.

Gold eyes watched me carefully. They were syrup, swirling against the darkness of the room, standing out against the harsh metal of a gas mask. I gasped as I stared, my hands wanting to reach out towards them, hold them. They were warmth.

There was gold.

I knew that. I was too caught up in it. My senses were equally heightened as they were dulled. But those golden orbs, I saw. Like honey, they were swirling syrup. They were bright, they were the sun. They were watching me, moving, snakelike as they followed me.

"Scarlett?"

I blinked at my name. I knew the voice; they belonged to the eyes.

"Charlieeee?" I mumbled.